No Celebrity Worship Here. But...

I don’t buy into celebrity worship. Sure, as a kid I had posters of Leonardo DiCaprio and Freddy Prinze Jnr on my wall, had a crush on Daniel Radcliffe one summer in my early teens and nearly wrote him a letter because I was achingly lonely. I started out loving cute boys I saw in the magazines my mother let me buy (WHY MUM??), but I quickly learnt it was more satisfying to appreciate a cute boy if he makes music. Like, actually makes music. None of this Aaron Carter shit (what an awful life I would have now if I’d fulfilled my 11 year old goal of having him fall in love with me)- Kurt Cobain, Jack White, Johnny Greenwood, these guys were totally where it was at. The shitty posters torn from the pages of Dolly magazine were replaced by print outs of Modigliani paintings and drawings I did of Ian Curtis, and on I went with my life, happy I had narrowly escaped the trappings of modern day idol worship.

Seriously, when I see women reading “Famous” magazine and all those other shitty pieces of fucking waste-of-resources shit, I feel angered. SERIOUSLY GUYS, why do you give a fuck about the tenth child of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Is it because they’re beautiful? Do you look at photos of their lives and imagine what it’s like to live like that? To be surround by hundreds of babies in a mansion with a partner who has been voted many times to be one of the world’s sexiest people? Yes, that has to be it, because that is the only reason anyone could ever spend money on that shit, unless they were using it for collaging, which is probably so depressingly rare that I shouldn’t have even mentioned it as a possible use.

And that fucking Kardashian family. Anyone with half a brain should be morally opposed to the amount of attention and money given to these women. I always used to view modern casinos as the worst thing about our society, but since the Kardashians have been shoved in my face, I’ve come to think that maybe they are a far worse capitalist/consumerist nightmare. Fuck you Kim Kardashian, I hope your face falls off.

I honestly believe that caring about the lives of famous people who are famous for being famous is a HUGE sign of weakness. Tittering about an actress who has put on weight, marveling over an actress who lost some weight, gasping at the exploits of some play boy from last month, the people prone to this are morons and should have all of their tubes tied so they don’t risk letting it get through into the fucking gene pool. Gross. Keep distracting yourself from your shitty train ride and the thoughts of what will meet you when you get back to your shitty house in the shitty suburbs by reading shitty pieces about shitty actors written by shitty “journalists” accompanied by shitty photos by shitty photographers, watch your shitty television shows on your shitty ikea couch, eat your shitty icecream and talk to your shitty friends about how you hate your shitty boss, get up the next day to keep going to your shitty job which you never really wanted to get into anyway, which you definitely won’t want to leave because you’ve got to pay off your shitty tv and shitty couch and all the other shitty purchases you’ve made with your shitty credit card. Do that if you want. Just don’t be surprised if you come to my fucking bar in one of the most progressive areas in this whole fucking COUNTRY and I get PISSED OFF when you squeal at my face for me to make you a fucking Jager-Bomb. No we DON’T have any energy drinks. Have some self respect. For god’s sake, if you’re going to read Eat Pray Love, how about you actually try DOING one of those self-discovery trips instead of festering away in your McMansion for the next 20 years.

Phew. It’s been a rough holiday season; I needed to get that out of my system.

Back to it: I don’t celebrity worship. I appreciate the skills of talented people who have worked hard and become internationally recognized for their art forms, but I don’t celebrity worship. And I needed to explain that properly before I get to the whole point of this week’s piece.


I am so fucking happy I can barely contain it. When I first found out Beyonce was pregnant, I grinned like an idiot, then I started giggling and clapping my hands. And then the internet told me the baby was born over the weekend, and I was all “HAPPY DAY THE SUPER CHILD IS HERE”, because honestly, how can that child not be freakishly talented? As we have established, I am a big appreciator of talent, and this musical power couple’s offspring will probably have it.

That child will be learning how to use Pro Tools 10 before learning how to ride a bike. She’s only two days old and she’s already featured on Jay-Z’s new track. She’ll grow up with contemporary music royalty as her close family friends, but in an environment that seems far more wholesome and stable than that of Frances Bean. Her parents deal with their celebrity status in such a chilled, stylish way, and I can’t imagine little Blue Ivy will suffer from the same crap that Suri Cruise has been subjected to since she started walking.  I’m sure there are thousands of people out there with the same attitude as I: how can this kid not be brilliant? And with ma and pa’s work ethic to influence her, it would come as no surprise if she were. But she could easily go the other way- like Anna Wintour’s daughter, who has grown up around the fashion industry and decided to fuck it all off and pursue a career in law instead. But becoming a fucked-out junkie in her teens? I can’t really see that happening. Not with Beyonce as a mother.

Either way, I hope she is happy and fulfilled. It may be a bit weird of me to express it, but whatever. I love babies, their little sponge brains have so much promise, and I am infinitely saddened (and angered) by how much wasted potential there is in the world, how many crushed dreams and broken psyches walk around every day. Blue Ivy has everything laid out in front of her, and if she is raised the right way, she could do an amazing amount of good for the world, and I can only hope that one day my child/children will have it just as good.

Celebrities and their babies! Not to be worshiped, not to be envied, but realistically appreciated for what they give to the world and contribute to culture, especially if the parents are in the music industry and are really really really really good at what they do.